


slipping through my fingers, longs to catch

by Linisen



Series: YOI Regency week 2020 [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Regency, Cinderella Elements, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hide and Seek, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mystery Suitor, Regency, Yuuri is sneaky and leaves clues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:46:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24033754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linisen/pseuds/Linisen
Summary: “Good evening,” Victor greeted, holding out his hand. The other man took it, and Victor wasted no time at all to bring the gloved hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss far too lingering to be proper on his knuckles. “I do not believe I have made your acquaintance before. I am Duke Victor Nikiforov, may I know your name?”“No,” the man said, even as he was smiling, eyes gleaming with mirth. Victor felt even more intrigued and he regretted having to drop his hand for properiety sake. No one had even not given him their name to him before. “I do not think I should give it.”Or. a man without a name catches Victor’s attention, and he falls head over heels in love with him. Can he catch him before he runs away again? And if he does, will Victor find him?
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: YOI Regency week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730575
Comments: 52
Kudos: 370
Collections: YOI REGENCY WEEK





	slipping through my fingers, longs to catch

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 3 of YOI Regency week - Mystory Suitor. Beta read by [IA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncandescentAntelope/pseuds/IncandescentAntelope) <3

Victor felt as if his smile had been stretched for so long it had turned into a grimace. It had scarcely been genuine to begin with, and now it seemed as if it would be plastered there forever. He nodded in greeting to yet another woman, whom Victor had never met before, introduced their unmarried child. Victor shook hands, kissed knuckles, and wished more than anything that he could go back in time and refrain his aunt from hosting such an event in his honor. 

This was his first visit to their summer estate and Victor, who had grown up farther south in Sussex, had only before seen his uncle and his wife in town when they all visited there. His uncle was a grave man, a stern look on his face that reminded Victor too much of his late father and how he always looked at him with disappointment. Victor shook the thoughts from his mind, this was not the time or the place. This was to be a happy occasion after all, for Victor had come to see their manor and they had thrown him a ball, inviting everyone they deemed worthy of such an event. There were far too many in Victor’s opinion, and far too many of the party was unmarried. Victor found himself in that category as well, but he was over six and thirty, so he could hardly be considered in the Marriage Mart any more. His time had long passed, and now he was too old and picky to settle with anyone, he was sure. It was not that the women and men paraded in front of him were not pretty, for they were, even if Victor most distinctly prefered the latter to the former. It was not that they could not dance, for many of them could, and it was not that they could not hold his attention with conversation, for many were most pleasant. There was simply so that Victor found none of them interesting. He could find pleasure in their company for an evening for conversation and dancing, but no more could come of it. He had realised that he would be spending his days alone, and even if he found it lonesome, it was better then to wed someone he did not want to share a life with, to shackle a young spirit whom he could not love to such an old man. He had relatives and friends, and that would have to be sufficient. 

He made pleasantries with yet another one of his aunt’s friends, nodding and greeting the introduced girl with a slight bow and kiss to her knuckles, and with much like any he had greeted that evening he forgot both of their names as soon as they stepped away from him. Victor sighed and sipped his wine, glancing over the room. There were still guests arriving, even as the hour was growing late, and yet he was bored. How much he longed to go up to his room and see his trusted hound, rest against the pillows of his bed with a good book. It would be rude to do this early however, with the ball being in his honor. He sighed, looking out across the dance floor once more, only to feel his focus fall on a man on the other side of the room. 

He had dark hair, black as raven’s feathers, slicked back from his face with pomade. His features were sharp, but still there was a softness to them. Where his cheekbones were high his cheeks sloped softly, where his jaw was clear cut, his lips were full. A beauty truly, more so than Victor had seen in a long time. What stopped him from moving on however was the man’s eyes, wide and dark, and looking straight at Victor. He could connect no negative feelings in the gaze, but the man, who could be no older than two and twenty, did not look upon Victor with the hungry gaze that unwedded prospects did. There was something calm about his gaze, and something within it made Victor want to know more. 

He placed his glass on a table, and made way to go to the man, to inquire his name and his person, perhaps to ask for a dance. Victor had not danced all evening, since he had been occupied in greetings ever since the ball had started. He was interrupted in his steps by yet another madam who wanted to present her son, a wide gazed brown haired boy who could be no older than nineteen. They made pleasant conversation, for Victor did not want to seem uncivilised and rude. He was however disappointed that when he managed to end the conversation, and found that the dark haired man was gone. Victor kept his eye out for him, but did not have the pleasure of seeing him again that evening. 

* * *

  
  


Victor had not forgotten the man, but as much as his interests had been piqued by his appearance and gaze, Victor had little to go on in inquiring about him with anyone. What was he to say? He had no name of the boy, just a general description. If he were to require information about those around him, he was sure gossip would stir. It seemed that he was the talk of the county as of late, and Victor did not want to draw more attention to himself than was already given. Still, he thought of him almost daily, his mind wandering to who he was, and what he saw when he laid his eyes on Victor. 

A week passed, and Victor attended many gatherings in that time. Tea at his aunt’s acquaintances, dinners at his uncle’s friends. Too many names were given for Victor to remember them all, even if he did try, for the sake of his relatives. It was a pleasant time, but it was soon becoming dreary and dull. They were invited to another dance, and Victor attended this as well, smiling as humidly as possible, nodding and greeting while declining dances as politely as he could, for he saw no pleasure in it. 

He had been in attendance for little over two hours when something caught his eye. Victor stopped, turning his attention from the party he was conversing with, and caught brown eyes. It was him, the man from the ball a week ago. Victor would not let him get away this time, and without letting the man leave his sight, excused himself from his conversation. 

They stepped in unison towards each other, Victor deliberately stepping away from yet another parent eager to show off their child. In another moment Victor would have been more polite, but not right now. He was feeling something he had long since forgotten, the sense of intrigue rising in his chest. He could hardly keep a smile off his face as he reached the man, stopping just shy of a meter apart. 

“Good evening,” Victor greeted, holding out his hand. The other man took it, and Victor wasted no time at all to bring the gloved hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss far too lingering to be proper on his knuckles. “I do not believe I have made your acquaintance before. I am Duke Victor Nikiforov, may I know your name?”

“No,” the man said, even as he was smiling, eyes gleaming with mirth. Victor felt even more intrigued and he regretted having to drop his hand for proparites sake. No one had even not given him their name to him before. “I do not think I should give it.”

“How come?” Victor asked, and the man bit his plump lower lip in the most enticing matter, but did not answer. “What shall I call you if you give me no name?”

The man tilted his head to the side, a thoughtful look on his face. “Perhaps you should give me a name then,” he suggested. “What do you feel would become me?” 

Victor considered this for a moment, he did not want to give him an ordinary name, for them man was most certainly not ordinary, but he did not want to play a game of guess either. Instead he settled from something more personal, a name his grandfather had called his grandmother, the sweetest couple he had ever known. “I shall call you Milyy then,” he concluded, the word  _ sweet _ fitting well with the honey brown of his eyes, the loveliness of his features. The man smiled, a joyous expression that Victor longed to see more of. 

“What does it mean?” he asked, and Victor felt his own cheekiness rise in his chest, wanting to play this game too.    
“I do not think I shall say,” he admitted, and the man laughed, the sound sweet as bells. “It is only fair, I feel. 

“It is only fair, I agree,” Milyy said. “How wonderful, to find a face so handsome accompanied by good humor and charms.”

“Have you been told otherwise?” Victor pressed, suddenly very intrigued as to know what the man had heard of him. Victor rarely cared for gossip, prefered to know better himself then to listen to the mill of scattered tales and rumors. Still, what Milyy thought of him mattered, so in extension what he had heard of Victor did. Milyy shook his head. 

“They say the duke is polite, but has no interest in socialising. They say he’s handsome and smart, but unlike one in his position should, he does not seem to be looking for a spouse,” Milly admitted to him. “Are these statements true? I can see with my own eyes that you are handsome, even if the rumors did not tell of your dashing eyes and elegant features. I have not conversed with you enough to deem you clever, but they forgot to mention so many things of you that I already know that I can only wonder if they were wrong about the rest.”

“What do you know of me then?” Victor asked, much more interested in Milyy’s view of him than any gossip. “You have hardly ever seen me before, except at my uncle's last week, have you?”

“It is true I have not seen you more than two times, last week and today, and still I feel as though the short interaction we have had just now has given me more information than all the gossip,” Milyy said.

“How unfortunate then, that you will not even give me your name so I can know you more,” Victor pressed, for even if he enjoyed this game, he would enjoy to know him. 

“You can know more,” Milyy said, with a smile. “You shall simply have to accept that I will decide which questions to answer or not.” 

“A challenge?” Victor asked, but Milly shook his head, that fire still in his eyes. 

“Not at all,” Milyy said. “As what you will of me and I shall answer in full truths in the regards I can.” His expression was earnest, and Victor felt so enchanted he agreed immediately. 

They made their way to a sitting group in the back to not be disturped by other guests or by the music of the dancefloor, taking up an armchair each. Milyy made sure to divert from every question that could give Victor any inclination of who he might be, where he might live or where he might spend his time. Instead they spoke of the world, of the state of affairs and politics, of books and art, of dance, of emotions. Milyy had no trouble in declaring his favorite flowers were cornflowers, but smiled with mirth when Victor tried to get him to suggest where Milyy had seen them last. He prompted Victor on his own answer, which came easily as roses, for he loved the scent of them.

They spoke of Victor’s estate, and under Milyy’s thoughtful attention Victor opened up more than he had to anyone. He spoke of his father's disappointment in him for not being the man he himself was, of his mother’s passing in his teen years, and of how he often found himself lonely at his estate, but even more in a room such as this one. It was liberation to open his heart, and Milyy’s hand came to rest on his arm in comfort, warmth blooming from the contact. He listened intently at each word falling from Victor’s lips, in a manner of attention he could not remember ever having received before. 

“I do not claim to know how you feel,” Milyy said. “But I too struggle… they say I have weak nerves, and that I might never become anything from it. It makes me perceive myself as weak even when I feel strong.”

“I would not agree,” Victor said firmly. “For even if I have not known you long, I am sure you have a strong power of will, and that you have a brave heart. I am sorry however that they have laid such claims on you. Perhaps it is as you said when our conversation started, that the gossip does not always ring true.” Milyy studied him for a moment, licking his lips in contemplation.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment's consideration, a softness to his features. “I think you might be right.” Victor smiled proudly at making the man he was fastly becoming so firmly attached to feel safe, and he took a gamble by leaning in, lowering his voice as he spoke again. 

“Would you not please give me your name?” Victor asked again. Milyy looked at him for a long moment, and then drew breath as to speak. Victor was on the edge of his seat to hear it, to learn what name the man that had enchanted him so bore. 

“Duke Nikiforov,” a shrill voice called, and Victor was startled out of his focus to look up and to the right, away from Milyy. A woman he had encountered earlier in the week was standing next to him, her son next to her. “I am happy to find you here. I wanted to inquire about the set you promised to dance with my son. I remember firmly how you agreed upon it while we were at dinner at the Robberson’s the other evening. Victor scarcely remembered, but he smiled politely, turning to Milyy to ask for him to wait until after the dance set so they could continue, only to find the armchair next to his empty. 

* * *

The next day a letter arrived. Victor received it as he was sitting by the breakfast table with his uncle and aunt, and opened the envelope addressed to him along with the rest of the mail he had received. Inside laid folded paper without any correspondence at all. Instead a simple phrase was written in a looped handwriting, one Victor did not recognize.  _ Open with care _ . Victor did as told, unlacing the simple string that was wrapped around the paper to carefully fold them out. In the middle layed a pressed and dried cornflower, blue as the day it bloomed. A simple word was written on the inside of the papers, but it was hardly necessary. Victor already knew who it was from. 

  * _Milly_



Victor became occupied that entire morning, not until lunch did he rest, and none the wiser for his chase. He had inquired by his relatives if they knew anyone of the appearance of Milyy, but they had no immediate recollection of who he could be. Victor then found the footman who brought in the letter, whom referred him to a kitchen boy who had retrieved them, who claimed to have been handed them by the postman from the village. A brisk walk to the post office gave Victor no answers, even if they regretted not being able to do so. The man who had delivered them was not sure where he had got it, from the office or if someone had stuck it in his hand, for the correspondence had been heavy that morning. Victor thanked them regardless, and came back to his uncle’s manner with no more answers then he had last night, except that Milyy seemed to be thinking of him too, and to be so kind to bestow upon Victor his favorite flower. 

* * *

Two weeks passed, and in that time Victor received a pressed flower every three days. Each time he tried to inquire of the whereabouts of the sender he hit a dead end. Sometimes the letter came with the mail, left by someone who was most certainly not Milyy. Sometimes it came though the kitchen, having been left with some of the goods being delivered there. Victor was equal parts humored and frustrated with it. In the absence of being able to answer these gifts, he took to the books to find out the meaning of these flowers, for even if the first one had been known to Victor, the others were not. 

He soon found a book in his uncle’s library, and thoughtfully read up on each of the flowers he received. The cornflower, centaurea, meant hope, devotion and anticipation - as well as unity and love. Victor felt his heart sore by the meaning of it, even if he was not sure that it was Milyy’s intention to make such claims when sending it. Another flower received was a cyclamen, meaning tenderness and lasting feelings. Victor was not sure of what feeling Milyy could be refering to, but Victor hoped they resembled his own, even as they grew deeper with each passing day. A camellia, pink and spread out, came the second week, and Victor blushed as he read it meant desire and passion. Did Milyy feel such things for him? Even as he was old and out of date, and Milyy was so young and fair? Surely he must have better prospects then someone like Victor. Still, something heated pooled in his gut by the thought of Milyy finding him desirable. He had most certainly found pleasure by his own hand thinking of Milyy, more than once. Could it be that the other man felt the same?

Just before the weekend, another letter came, pressed with two flowers this time. One was a red rose, deep emotions and love. Victor’s heart raced in his chest, the need to find Milyy growing. How would he, when he seemed to disappear into the wind so easily. The second flower was the most peculiar thing Victor had ever seen. It was a rose too, but its petals were as blue as the cornflower, vibrant even in their dried form. The book said for it to mean something desired but unattainable. Victor stared at it for a long time, carefully arranging it with the other’s in a glass frame he had bought for them. Did Milyy mean himself - was he the one that was desired but unattainable? To Victor he certainly was, but it felt unlike the man to state such a thing. Could it be that Milyy found himself lacking in the regard of Victor? The flowers gave him no answers, even as many times as he asked them. He could only hope as yet another private ball dew close, that he would see him once more. 

As soon as Victor stepped into the manor of the ball the search began. He walked through room after room, greeting those he had spent dinners and when hunting with, exchanged words with parties he had been to tea at. He tried to keep it brief without being rude, for his focus was firmly elsewhere. It was not long however, until Victor walked into the ballroom to see him there, as dashing as the first time Victor saw him. He hurried over, and as he came close enough grabbed the man’s hand so he could bring it up to his mouth for a kiss. Milyy smiled, and Victor’s heart soared. 

“I must thank you for the lovely gifts,” Victor said, having the wonderful view of Milyy’s cheek pinkening. “Although I am sad I have not been able to send anything back to you, Milyy.”

Milyy looked at him for a moment, and then he got that fiercely determined gaze again, leaning closer into Victor’s frame. 

“It is Yuuri,” he said, suddenly looking slightly unsure as the name left his lips. Victor all but startled, squeezing the hand still in his grip on impulse. 

“Yuuri,” Victor echoed with amazement. The name tasted sweet on his tongue, and fit the man well, with how melodic it sounded. Yuuri smiled, a beautiful sight that brought warmth to Victor’s heart. He had thought of it ever since they parted last, and was happy to see it was as sweet as he remembered it. Still, Victor could not stop himself from asking: “You will not give your family name?” 

Yuuri looked at him for a moment, tilting his head to the side. Victor wondered what he saw, if it pleased him, and why it matters so much to Victor if it did. “No,” Yuuri said slowly. “I do not think I will.”

“Why?” Victor asked, puzzled and curious. Yuuri looked from him to the dancefloor, and then back once more. 

“Dance with me,” Yuuri asked, and Victor had not danced a single set all night, but he could not find anything holding him back from accepting. He wanted to spend as much time as he could with Yuuri, and he therefore offered his hand once more, leading them out onto the dancefloor. Yuuri fit perfectly into his arms, his form excellent. He must have had proper training in some way, to have a frame so sure. When he started to move Victor was certain he must have, for his steps were practiced and precise, and he moved with ease across the floor. Victor was enchanted. He could not look away from this man, from the curve of his cupid's bow, his dark eyes that looked as if they had been decorated with flecks of gold. Something that had been slowly blooming in Victor’s chest ever since his first meeting with Yuuri started to bloom in his chest, making him feel like the green boy he had not felt as in many years. 

“You are a charming dancer,” Victor said, and Yuuri smiled, grip on Victor’s shoulder tightening slightly as a soft blush painted his cheeks. “I do not think I have enjoyed dancing this much in years.” 

“Neither have I,” Yuuri agreed, and Victor shook his head, making sure to keep up with Yuuri’s pace. 

“Surely you must have your pick in dance partners? Someone as lovely as you, with such talent for dance?” Victor prompted. He felt a string of jealousy thinking about it, Yuuri in someone else's arms, even if his statement must be true. He held on tighter. Yuui blushed further but shook his head, eyes determined when they met Victor's again. 

“I do not come to gatherings such as this often, and if I do, I’m very particular in who I dance with,” Yuuri admitted, and Victor felt proud of the declaration of Yuuri deeming him worthy of his time, if he spent it on so few. 

“Who are you here with then? How do you know Mr. and Mrs. Barton?” he asked, prompting the young man’s relation to the hosts. Yuuri shook his head, a blinding smile on his lips. 

“I shall not tell you,” he said with a smirk, as if he had figured out Victor’s plan of running to them, asking for more information about this secretive young man. “How long are you in the county for?” he asked instead, seemingly a master of changing the topic to his wims. Victor followed. 

“A month more at least,” he admitted. “I have not seen my uncle since my father’s passing, and he has prompted me to come visit for a long time.” 

“I am glad that you have then, for otherwise I would not have the opportunity of this dance,” Yuuri said, and the warmth that had been growing in Victor’s chest bloomed further, spreading like ivy vines in his system. How lovely this man was, and how Victor continued to want to know more about him. 

“It is I who should be grateful I feel,” Victor said, trying for flirtation. He had not flirted in a decade surely, he was sure he was rusty and that his charms were lacking, but he had to try. Yuuri had drawn him on that first night, and continued to do so ever since. He wanted to keep his attention, even if he perhaps sought Victor as old and decept. “For it has been long since I have held someone so lovely in my arms.”

“You are a flatterer Duke Nikiforov,” Yuuri answered, stepping away to thank him for the dance as the set ended. Victor wanted to ask for another, but he longed for privacy more. He could already feel the eyes of the crowd on them. “Thank you for the dance.”

“Can I ask your opinion on some roses?” Victor asked quickly, not sounding at all as romantic as he had hoped it would as the thought came rushing through his mind. Yuuri must enjoy flowers, as he had sent Victor so many that he must have dried last season at the earliest. Showing him the gardens seemed a perfect opportunity in indulging Yuuri in his interest, as well as securing some time alone. He had visited this manor just a week prior for tea, and knew the garden to be well tended to and lovely. 

“Roses?” Yuuri echoed with interest as they stepped off the dance floor with arms linked. Victor continued to walk them across the floor to the side wall, and Yuuri followed, intrigued in his eyes. 

“Yes,” Victor confirmed, stopping them beside the glass door Victor knew to lead out into the night. “Roses. I must try to pay you back for all the lovely flowers you have sent me.” 

“I am glad you enjoyed them. Roses are a lovely flower,” Yuuri agreed, and Victor smiled widely. He had been troubled by the fact that he could not shower Yuuri in gifts, to go call on him and ask to court him properly. This was a good stepping stone. 

“Come with me then,” he prompted, opening the glass door. Yuuri eyed it cautiously for a moment, and then he walked through it into the summernight, the sky still light.

“Where to?” he asked, and Victor offered his hand. 

“The gardens,” he explained as he started leading Yuuri down the stone steps of the balcony towards the path leading into the neaty kept grounds. There were filled with greenery and lush bushes with flowers, the sweet smell still hanging in the air even in the night. Yuuri took a deep breath of it, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he did. 

“It is highly improper for you to lead me out into the shadows alone,” Yuuri pointed out with a smile, tone teasing. Victor tightened his grip on his hand as he guided them past the herbs and lilacs towards his goal.

“It is highly improper for you to not share your family name,” Victor pointed out as they came upon the lush rose bush clinging to the stone wall. They climbed up and up, as far as to the window of the third floor. Red, sweet, and thorn free. 

“Ah, I suppose so,” Yuuri agreed, hand sliding from Victor's grip as he stepped closer to the flowers, hand coming out to caress over them carefully. He leaned into them, taking a deep breath of their sweet scent. “They are lovely.”

“How fitting then, since you are too,” Victor said, surprised by his own mind for his own flirtatious nature. He had been once, a young man who had flirted and charmed. He was too old for that now surely, and Yuuri - young, vibrant and beautiful - must find him silly for thinking he could have a chance with someone such as he. Still Yuuri sent him flowers with such consistency. Still he smiled and joined Victor on his whims. Did Yuuri feel something between them too? However it was, Victor could not seem to stop himself, an impulsive he had forgotten he could possess rushing forward with full force here with Yuuri. “I thought I should show them to you, since they reminded me of you when I saw them the other week.”

“So this was not a mere trick to get me alone?” Yuuri asked, turning around to face him, resting back against the wall. It looked like the most beautiful of paintings. His hips were a lovely curve, shoulders broad to his narrow waist. His dark profile was stark against the redness of the roses, and Victor longed to touch. 

“Do you think me so improper?” Victor asked, unable to hold back from stepping closer, as if called by siren song. Perhaps Yuuri should, for improper thoughts were certainly running through Victor’s mind. Yuuri hummed and reached out, fingers wrapping around the bow tie cravat around Victor’s neck to pull him closer. Victor stumbled, hands splayed in the sea of roses on either side of Yuuri’s head, close enough to feel Yuuri’s breath dance over his lips. Victor gasped, eyes falling onto Yuuri’s lips, perfectly sculpted for kissing. It had been so very long since Victor had kissed anyone, and now he longed so desperately for it. It took everything in his power not to lean down and close the distance, fingers gripping at the vines of the roses to hold back.

“Perhaps I wish you to be,” Yuuri said, and as Victor stayed perfectly still he leaned up even further, simply ghosting his lips over Victor’s own.

The action was enough to pull Victor from his resolve. He pressed into Yuuri, claiming his lips fully. Yuuri gasped, fingers curling in Victor’s jacket to pull him closer still. Victor’s mind rushed in unison with the blood in his veins, hurried along by his rapid heartbeat. Their breaths were gasped, kisses heated. They soon grew needy and wet. Yuuri’s tongue in his mouth ignited fire within Victor’s veins, and it made him feel alive in a way he had not in years. Victor had never kissed in such a way in his life, with such a feeling of want and desire. He had been right about Yuuri’s mouth, surely it had been made for such actions, to have his lips pressed against Victor’s own was a blessing, truly. Soft, plump, movements skilled against Victor’s mouth. He pulled back only to catch his breath, and as he did Yuuri’s hand came up to cup his cheek, a soft and tender gesture that made Victor’s heart ache even with the heat still drumming in his veins with each heartbeat. Who was this man, who showed such passion and tenderness for him, even though they hardly knew each other? There was fire in Yuuri’s eyes, a deep blush on his cheeks as he rested back against the flowers once more.

“I have longed for that since I first saw you,” Yuuri said, gaze soft as he leaned up to press his lips tenderly to Victor’s top lip once more, sweet and lingering. “Thank you.” Victor wanted to kiss him as such for the rest of time. “We should go back to the ball.”

“I do not want to,” Victor stated, even though he knew it was the truth. Soon they would be missed, Victor by his relatives and Yuuri by whoever he came to the dance with. Yuuri laughed, but it was a bitterness in it now that had not been there before, a melancholy embedded in the softness of his tone. “I wish you would tell me why,” he added, caressing his thumbs over Yuuri’s cheekbones before he pulled back. Yuuri followed. “Why won’t you tell me your name?”

“Perhaps I do not wish for you to know, perhaps I have come simply to have you this one night and never again,” Yuuri said as he stepped away from him, turning to look at Victor as he took a few steps backwards. 

What a strange thing to say. Why would he want such a thing? Everyone wanted Victor for his inheritance, his money and his title. For someone to simply want a kiss from him astonished him. It seemed Yuuri could do nothing but surprise him. 

“Why?” he asked, curiosity spiked. Here they were, with Yuuri saying he simply wanted a kiss, and yet he was the first Victor had wanted more from in longer than he could remember. Yuuri stopped. They had reached the steps now, and Yuuri turned to face him once more. Victor did not hesitate to close his eyes as Yuuri pushed up to claim his lips once more. 

“I wish I could tell you,” he said softly, voice a mere whisper. Victor was just to grab him and hold him close, demand answers, when Yuuri’s hands slipped from him and he rushed up the stairs. Victor was too slow to realise what was happening, and he only reacted when Yuuri was almost fully up on the balcony. He hurried after, but realised as he came into the ballroom that he was too late. Yuuri was nowhere to be seen. 

* * *

  
  


The fourth time Victor saw him it was Yuuri who found him, and it was not at a dance at all. Victor had been fretting, for he had gotten a letter of news from one of his estates that needed tending to in quite the haste, so instead of staying another month he would have to be gone in just a few days. He had yet been able to locate where he could find Yuuri to tell him, and a deep fear had started growing in his chest, for what if he could not find him? What if they would never meet again? His heart ached by the mere thought, for Victor had most definitely decided that if Yuuri would have him he would gladly offer his hand in marriage. 

Never before had he found someone he wanted to spend his life with, but with Yuuri he most certainly did. He longed to see him in bed next to him in the morning, to read together, to hear his thoughts on how to improve his finances and estate, to kiss him breathless. He longed to run his hands down Yuuri’s body, to see what made him gasp and moan, what made him whimper and call out, Victor’s name preferably. Victor had not had anyone in years, but he had not been able to stop thinking of how it would be to have Yuuri, naked and flushed in his bed, gleaming gold ring on his finger. 

He was therefore delighted to find the butler call on him to say he had a visitor and to come down to see Yuuri. His uncle and aunt had left for the afternoon, one for business in the village, the other for a social gathering. He wondered if Yuuri had known, and how. The matters were soon pushed away since Yuuri smiled sweetly at him, and Victor’s heart raced as he approached with hasty steps, taking Yuuri’s hand to kiss his knuckles. 

“Yuuri,” he said with relevance. “How glad I am to see you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Yuuri said. He was more plainly dressed today, out of the evening wear, but he was still handsome. Victor longed to kiss him again. “I hope I am not interrupting you?”

“You are not, even though…” Victor stopped himself. He did not want to start their meeting with the news of him leaving, but he had to tell Yuuri at some point. “Let's not speak of it here. Would you like tea?” 

“I would,” Yuuri agreed, and they made their way up to the second floor, where a smaller and more private sitting room sat in one of the corners. It was a lovely room, with windows on two sides which let in plenty of sun. A footman soon arrived with their tea, and Victor poured Yuuri a cup as they made mindless chatter of the house and the decorations, the tea china and the biscuits. 

“I have missed you terribly,” Victor said, feeling bold as he let his hand come up to cup Yuuri’s cheek. They were seated next to each other on the couch, and the worries Victor felt for the action was soothed as soon as their skins touched, Yuuri leaning into it immediately.

“I have missed you too,” Yuuri admitted in a whisper as he looked down, as if the declaration was a secret. 

“I have some disappointing news,” Victor said, and Yuuri met his gaze once more. Victor’s heart pounded in his chest. “I am to leave for Sussex in a few days.”

“Oh,” Yuuri said, and Victor’s heart sank as he saw his expression fall. “Will this be the last time I see you then?”

“Yuuri,” Victor said, but Yuuri did not give him the chance to continue. He pressed forward in a haste, claiming Victor’s lips with his own. His mouth, just as soft and sweet as Victor remembered, made Victor’s heart race. He kissed Yuuri back with vigour, letting his tongue come out to swipe at Yuuri’s lower lip. Yuuri gasped and opened, licking into Victor’s mouth as soon as he had the chance. Victor did not object. Instead he pulled Yuuri closer, and Yuuri followed, bolder still then Victor, by swinging one leg over Victor’s, straddling his hips. Victor’s mind was clouded by the force of lust, heat racing in his body as his cock started to fill. Yuuri was arm in his hands, and Victor could not stop them from wandering from his hips down his deliciously muscular thighs, and then up again. Yuuri gasped against his lips, rolling his hips down into Victor’s lap. His hands were wrapped around the back of Victor’s neck, pulling him into the kiss roughly, teeth scraping against Victor’s lower lip before he let his tongue slide into Victor's mouth again. 

“Have me,” Yuuri gasped against his lips. “Please Victor.” 

He had never before said Victor’s given name, and the intimacy of his made Victor’ buck his hips up, Yuuri breaking off from the kiss to throw his head back, neck pale and long as he breathy moan escaped his lips. It was addicting surely, for Victor had to do it again. To have such a lovely young thing on his lap, erection straining against his trousers much like Victor’s own did, was more than he deserved. Still, Yuuri had made a request, and Victor would not deny him. 

“You want me to give you pleasure?” Victor asked, one of his hands moving from Yuuri’s hip down to his straining cock. He pushed the heel of his hand against it, and Yuuri moaned louder this time, continuing to roll his plumb ass down on Victor’s own erection. 

“Yes, yes please but-,” Yuuri gasped, tipping his head forward again to look into Victor’s eyes, his own dark and filled with lust. Victor caressed up and down his shaft again, the outline of it clear even with his pants covering it. “I want you mmh- to feel pleasure too.” 

“I will then,” Victor agreed, lust racing in his veins. He did not have oli there, nor did he want to call on a server to fetch it, but there were other ways that he could touch that would please them both. “Have you had someone else hand on you before?”

“Only my own,” Yuuri said breathlessly. “Though I have thought of it, dreamt of your hands on me. Many lewd fantasies of you have passed my mind since I first saw you.”

“Have they now,” Victor said, pride swelling in his chest. He reached for the fastening of Yuuri’s trousers, making quick work to open them. Yuuri was still rolling his hips down in slow motions into Victor’s lap, delicious friction that was driving Victor mad. He wanted to focus on Yuuri first, see him in a way no one else had, touch him like no other had. His cock sprung free from it’s confinements, hard and flushed red, standing proudly up against his stomach. It was a beautiful sight. “How beautiful you are Milyy,” Victor said, bringing back the endearment he had first bestowed Yuuri with as a name. “How I have longed for this too, to see you in such a flushed and aroused state.” He licked the palm of his hand, one gripping on Yuuri’s hip, the other hand wrapping around his cock to stroke slowly upwards. Yuuri moaned again, pressing down on Victor’s bulge. 

“Oh, yes Victor yes,” he moaned, and Victor could not help but smirk, to be able to bring him such pleasure. “You mmh- you too I w-want mmh.” 

“Certainly my darling,” Victor agreed, guiding Yuuri to rise on his knees. He had to let go of Yuuri fully to open his own pants, and in the meantime he reveled in the sight of Yuuri’s pants open, his cock standing, his flushed cheeks and kiss swollen lips. Yuuri’s eyes were trained on his actions with his own pants, and as they opened and Victor finally took himself in hand, Yuuri moaned as if Victor had been touching him. 

“Oh Victor,” Yuuri said. “It is even bigger than I had thought.” 

“Sit down again Milyy, and I shall tend to the both of us,” Victor instructed, and Yuuri did as told, eyes still on their cocks as Victor lined them up together, taking them both in hand. Yuuri moaned deeply, as did Victor, when he started to move his hand slowly up and down their shafts. He wanted to savour this, to see each and every reaction he could wring from Yuuri. He was beautiful, hips rocking into Victor’s fist, as if he could not stop himself, so aroused by their situation. The action caused added friction to Victor’s own cock, along with the stroking, and it was heaven. Victor brought his free hand to Yuuri’s neck to pull him into another kiss, and Yuuri started fucking into his fist in earnest then, kisses as wet and slick as Victor’s hand on their cocks. Moans and gasps fell from their lips, and Victor wanted it to never end, wanting to keep Yuuri for always.

“Victor, Victor I’m-, oh it is so good,” Yuuri moaned, hips moving faster and faster. “I cannot- aah I want- I will,” he moaned brokenly, and Victor felt it too, the tightening in his groin, the overwhelming pleasure rushing towards him.

“Come love, I am al-lmost there too,” Victor agreed. He increased the movements of his, and soon he could hold back no longer. Orgasm overtook him, and his own hips buckled into his hand as he came, spend flowing over Yuuri’s cock and his hand. 

“Haaaa,” Yuuri moaned, the slick feeling surely delicious as his hips continued to pump into Victor’s fist. Soon he was coming too, grip on Victor’s neck tight as he pressed his moan into his lips. Yuuri trembled through it, and Victor held him steady, sure that he was truly in love with this young man, who had claimed his heart in every way. 

They slowly calmed down, and Victor cleaned them off with the napkins left for their tea, not sure how he was going to explain how they had gone missing after he threw them in the fire. Yuuri pressed close to him after they had dressed, hand on Victor’s chest and had tucked under his chin where they sat. 

“Thank you,” Yuuri said as he straightened, pressing his lips to Victor’s cheek. “I will miss you.”

“Yuuri,” Victor started, but Yuuri sat up fully from their embrace and shook his head. He looked Victor straight in the eye, taking a deep breath. Victor waited patiently, even as his heart was overflowing with the words he wanted to say. 

“I wish for you to not say anything about it now. I do not want you to give promises of obligation or emotional confusion of what just transpired between us,” he said determinately. 

“Yuuri,” Victor started again, for he wanted to tell him that the declaration he wanted to make was not out of haste. His feelings had built ever since that first meeting, and had only deepened since. No matter how little he knew of Yuuri’s situation, he need not know more than he already did to decide he wanted him by his side for as long as he should live. Yuuri shook his head once more. 

“No, I will not answer anything you might ask of me. You have given me everything I longed for and more so then I thought I might get. I only wish to give you something in return,” Yuuri claimed, and then he turned his attention to his hands. 

“You have given me more than you could possibly know darling,” Victor said, watching as Yuuri pulled a ring from his middle finger, a simple golden band. It looked old but polished, as if it had been worn for a long time, but tended to tenderly. 

“I wish to give you this,” Yuuri said. “It was my grandfather's wedding band. Please take it as a declaration of my feelings for you.” His eyes held that determined gaze once more, and Victor, breathless and so utterly in love, held out his hand. Never in his life had he expected anyone to give him a ring, even if Yuuri was not truly proposing a marriage, it was similar enough to make Victor’s heart overflow. The metal was warm as it slipped over the knuckles of his fourth finger on his right hand, fitting well. He looked down on it, and then back up at Yuuri. There was a blush high on his cheeks, but there was melancholy in his eyes. 

“Yuuri, my darling,” Victor tried again, but Yuuri leaned forward to press his lips against Victor’s own, silencing him again. 

“No. Not now. Leave for home, and if you still feel the same after two months, come find me,” he said. Victor wanted to push, but what could he do, when Yuuri refused to hear him out?

“How shall I find you, since you have made yourself such a secret?” Victor asked, and Yuuri kissed him again before he stood, a pained smile on his face.

“I hope you find a way,” he said, and then he left, taking Victor’s heart with him.

* * *

  
  


Yuuri’s stomach had been in knots for days, even though he knew nothing would come of it. In one month had passed since Duke Nikiforov had left for his estate in Sussex, and ever since Yuuri’s heart had ached. It had been the right decision to not force him to give any promises, Yuuri knew. It had been the right thing, to keep his social class of a low level gentry family to himself, to allow himself the fantasy of the life he could have had with Victor, no matter his status, but made sure Victor made no attachments. Yuuri’s family did alright but they had no fortune to speak of, and Yuuri’s dowry of a few hundred would be nothing to a Duke such as Mr. Nikiforov. His family were invited more often than not to dances, for his family was kind and fair, and were known as good company even if they had little money. Yuuri seldom came with, but that night he had longed to dance, so he had gone. At first sight of Victor he had been enraptured, not only by his handsome appearance but by his solemn expression. Why was he so sad, and why did no one seem to notice it? It was why Yuuri had come to that second dance, and after that evening he was ruined, no other would suffice after Victor had opened his heart, Yuuri would never again want another after seeing such tenderness, such wits, such charms. He knew it could not last, and still he kept on, for the lovely memories he gathered was something he would keep until the day he died. No hope lived in him that the Duke would come for him, for even if he found him, surely hearing of who Yuuri truly was would refrain him. It was just as well. Yuuri was sure he could not handle the rejection. It was better this way, he thought, as he pulled yet another linen from the laundry basket to be hung to dry.

It was the last days of summer, before the chill would fully start to set in, and Yuuri had plans to go out and pluck the last flowers of the season to dry them. He had sent the most lovely ones he had to Victor, and he would never regret doing so. Still, he needed to fill the gap that had been created, so he should have to go out and find new ones. He hoped Victor had kept them, and would look at them and remember Yuuri with fondness. 

He was halfway through the laundry basket when he heard horses hooves on the gravel road. The post, Yuuri assumed, pushing the sheet covering the view from the road to the side to greet the man. He looked up, and his heart stopped in his chest. He would know that frame anywhere, the silver hair and the blue eyes. They locked with Yuuri’s immediately, and for a moment Yuuri was sure it was a mistake, that Victor had happened upon their small manor by accident. Then, Victor’s lips spread into a smile, heart shaped and warm, as he urged his horse faster to where Yuuri stood. Yuuri felt breathless, heart hammering in his chest as he watched him approche, unable to speak at all as Victor jumped off his horse and hurried to him. 

“Yuuri,” he said as soon as he reached him, cupping Yuuri’s face with his hands. Yuuri felt as though he was dreaming, and perhaps that was why he placed his own hand over Victor’s, fingers trembling as he went up on his toes to press his lips to Victor’s warm and lovely ones. He had missed this, the kiss so filled with devotion. Victor smiled into it, and Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat. Could this be really, truly? “Silly boy, you gave me a clue as you left me did you not? Did you not think I should find it?” Yuuri never thought he would, so he shook his head and Victor laughed, joyously and proud. “I did,” Victor said, letting Yuuri go so he could pull off his glove, the gold band Yuuri had left him gleaming in the sun. Victor pulled it off most carefully, holding it up to read. “‘Katsuki’,” he smiled proudly as he looked at Yuuri again. “I found you, Yuuri Katsuki.”

“You did,” Yuuri agreed, still so overwhelmed and surprised, for he had never thought he would, never thought he would actually look. 

“I have, and now I have come to say what I wanted, that you would not let me a month ago,” Victor said, putting the ring back on his finger but leaving his glove off. He took off the other as well, and then took Yuuri’s bare hands in his own. 

“I asked you to wait two months,” Yuuri reminded, and Victor shook his head, grip on Yuuri’s hands tightening. 

“You will come to learn I have little patience to wait if I can solve something right away. I came back as soon as my business was finished and I had found the name. Now, Yuuri Katsuki, the man who has stolen my heart, who has given me more love and joy than I had thought I could ever get, will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?”

Yuuri gasped, and did not believe it until Victor let go of his hand to pull out a ring himself, matching the one Yuuri had given him. Yuuri looked up into his eyes, his own wet with tears. Could this be true? 

“Are you sure?” Yuuri asked, thickly. “For I could not bear it if you ever took it back.”

“I have never been more sure in my life,” Victor countered, and Yuuri’s breath trembled.

“Even now that you see who I am, how little I have? I have no money or-,” Yuuri rambled, but Victor cut him off, expression earnest and gaze true. 

“Yuuri, I am sure we will want for nothing. I do not need more money. I just need you.”

“Then yes,” Yuurri agreed, pushing up in a rush to claim his lips. “Yes I will marry you.” 

Victor kissed him, again and again, and tears fell from Yuuri’s eyes even as he smiled, laughing as Victor picked him up and spun him one lap around. 

“Would you like to meet my family then, for I will have to tell them I am to marry, and they would never believe me if you do not come?” Yuuri asked. Victor beamed as he agreed, and after offering Yuuri his arm they made way for the house, laundry forgotten. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> sneaky, sneaky Yuuri. It's good you found a clever one ;)
> 
> Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think in the comment section or on other platforms like:  
> [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/linisen) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mjaoue)


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